


Maybe That Makes Me A Fool

by zombiesbecrazy



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I love the OG Titans, Mentions of Blood, Serious Injuries, Titans Together, Wally makes a cameo, because I can't physically write any of the Titans without including Wally, small references to addiction, swearing in the field
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiesbecrazy/pseuds/zombiesbecrazy
Summary: The explosion wasn't a surprise. What was a surprise was the static laced call for help from Nightwing that Roy got over the comms moments later.Not assistance. Not backup. Help.





	Maybe That Makes Me A Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Gen fic, but written for DickRoy Week - Day 6 prompt - Red

Roy barely even noticed when the shockwave hit him, only to adjust slightly on his final target to adapt to the movement before letting his bolt fly. It wasn’t a surprise when the south east corner of the compound exploded. It had been planned that way, but even if it hadn’t been, it was the way that things ended more often that not.

What was a surprise was the static laced call for help from Nightwing that Roy got over the comms moments later.

Not assistance. Not backup. _Help_.

Not a good sign. Especially when it was in the tone that Nightwing had when he was trying to hide the pain he was in but overcompensated, meaning that everyone knew that things were bad even more than they would have if he hadn't tried to cover it up.

It didn’t take Roy long to locate him, black and blue figure crumpled in an impossible way behind a concrete median, holding onto his stomach and looking like he was struggling to breath, with two gunmen firing at him from the other side. From his perch, Roy could see the trails of blood that had followed Dick, who had appeared to drag himself to his current hiding position, only twenty feet from where the explosion had been. That was significantly closer than he should have been when the bomb went off, which meant that he had been in range of the explosion and that was the exact opposite of the way things were supposed to go down.

Roy quickly fired two shots at Dick's attackers, grinning with satisfaction at their squeals when they noticed the solidifying foam swiftly encasing them and locking them into place, unable to run or defend. Damn, Roy loved that trick.

He dropped down and ran over to to his broken friend before stopping short, not really knowing what do to next because now that he's up close, Dick looks like he's in terrible shape and it's hard to tell which parts of him are actually injured and what is just covered in blood and mud. He's conscious though, so Roy tries to play it cool instead of showing the panic that is building under the surface. “I have no idea why people think you are smart because if you are bleeding out on the ground you had to have done something monumentally stupid. Were you trying to get yourself blown up?”

Dick turned his head gingerly, and grinned weakly when his eyes focused enough to spot Roy standing above him. “Aww, Arsenal. Are you saying that you’d miss me if I went boom?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and sounded breathy with effort of trying to force the words out. Stubborn bastard. Well, two could play at that game.

“I’m saying that I'm glad I was far enough away when that went down. I would be pissed if I’d have to spend time later cleaning chunks of Nightwing out of my hair.”

“Understandable. There’d be an ick factor. Luckily, you don't have to worry about that." Dick tried to clear his throat but coughed hard instead, and when he removed his hand, Roy could see the red smearing across the blue stripes on his glove. "I'm just peachy."

"Sure you are." Roy knelt down and started to do the standard field assessment on Dick, following the ABC's. Airway seemed clear and he was breathing, which was good, because not breathing is bad, but it was difficult for him to get a deep breath. Probably some broken ribs, but right now it didn't look like the lungs had been punctured. C was where Roy got stuck, because there was just so much blood and he couldn't tell for sure where to start, so he just started pulling bandages out of his kit and tried to temporarily patch him up the best that he could. He caught Dick's eyes drooping closer to closed and joggled the less damaged looking shoulder gently. Dick's eyes rolled back to meet his, eyebrow raised in question. Roy shook his head as he gestured at Dick's injuries “I mean it though. Don’t get yourself killed doing something stupid.”

“Who died and made you leader of the Titans?” mumbled Dick.

“You, almost, by the looks of it.” Roy secured a bandage over a nasty gash in Dick's neck, taping it down securely and thanking whatever power that seemed to watch over Dick that the artery wasn't nicked. “What happened?” Keep him talking. Keep him conscious. Keep him alive.

“Don't know. Faulty trigger, I think. I didn’t get far enough out of range before it went off. Didn't get anywhere, really.” Dick recoiled as Roy pressed down on his side. The suit felt hot to the touch. "It went off as soon as I set it instead of starting the timer."

"Damn, you are a lucky bastard." Right now it seemed atrocious, when trying to deal with the wounds, but that was... fucking lucky. Dick quite literally had been at ground zero of an explosion and Roy was well aware of the history that Robin's had with being in those. There had to be internal injuries that Roy wasn't going to be able to do anything about here. They needed to get him out quickly, but he wanted to try and keep Dick calm, keep him from moving too soon. He had to buy the rest of the team a little more time to finish up. They had almost been done; Dick's explosion was supposed to be the signal to wrap everything up so they had to be close. And he knew Dick well enough that Dick wasn't going to be evac'd out of the field without at least an argument.

A hand wrapped around his wrist, and Dick's voice was strained. "Roy." His breath shook as he inhaled. "My... my left leg." He struggled to continue talking, but he managed to finish. "Is it there? I promise I won't freak out if it's... not. I just... need to know."

Roy definitely didn't believe Dick when he said he wouldn't freak out if his leg was gone, because that was a perfectly legitimate reason to panic and have a melt down no matter what you promise to do or not, but fortunately that wasn't the case. "Yeah, man. It's there. I can see you wiggling your toes and everything." Sure, there was a bone poking out, but the leg was there and he could move it so he was looking at it as glass half full. Roy didn't need to share the rest right now. He moved lower and quickly splited it tight, Dick hissing in pain at the suddenness of it. "Right one is there too. Looks like all your parts are present and accounted for."

"Oh, that is excellent news." Dick was mumbling again and Roy could see that he was on the brink of passing out. They needed to get him out of there immediately.

Hand to his ear, Roy activated his comms to the rest of the team. “Flash, we need an emergency extraction. The fast kind.” He could see Dick become more alert at that and he started to struggle to sit up, until Roy placed a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't much, but it was enough to convince him to lay back down. Dick had murder in his eyes immediately, any attempt at pretending that he was fine now gone. He hated having to show weakness in front of others, even just the five of them, but Roy didn't see any other way about it. It wasn't like he was going to be able to walk out of here anytime soon, and Dick had to know that, especially if he had thought it was possible that he was missing a limb. “Nightwing tried to prove he’s all tough by wearing most of his blood on the outside instead of on the inside.” He tried to make it light, to ease the tension, mostly to make Dick calm down, but also a little to convince himself.

Roy had barely finished saying the words, was just lowering his fingers from his comm when Wally appeared in front of them, dropping down to a crouch to scoop up Dick before he stopped, hands millimetres away from touching him before he pulled them back, apparently seeing the same damage that Roy had. 

"What the hell happened? This was supposed to be a minimal combat mission." Wally caught Roy's eyes, bewildered because there was bad and then there was _bad_ , and this was very close to the second kind of badness. Dick started to answer but Roy cut him off, knowing that Dick would try and convince Wally that it was worse than it looked and Wally would probably fall for it. Not that he was stupid, but Wally was more likely to believe Dick's lies about his own welfare than Roy was - speedsters tended to overestimate how fast regular people could bounce back.

"Bomb went off way too soon and he was directly in the blast. Take him to medical at the Watchtower for a full exam, because there is no logical way that he should be alive right now, let alone conscious, and I don't want to be responsible for him dying on our watch later from internal bleeding that we didn't know about."

There was a look of utter betrayal on Dick's face as he scowled to himself. "I'm fine, you big arse." If he had been able to cross his arms, he'd be pouting.

"Say that without the blood dripping from your mouth and I'll believe you," Roy shot back. 

"Is his spine okay?" asked Wally, eyes quickly cataloging what was visible from the outside and Roy nodded.

Dick started to round on Wally for talking about it as if he wasn't there, but was cut off by a sharp intake of breath and he squeezed his eyes tight as Wally managed to pick him up without jostling him too much. "Just don't, Wing. Not now. Don't fight us on this."

"Nightwing. Stand down." There was an note of order in Roy's tone and an icy glare met him in return. He was not a fan of them ganging up on him like that. "The rest of us will come up after we clean up here. Go get checked out." 

"Fine."

"This is going to hurt, but I'll be as quick and as careful as I can be." It sounded like Wally was talking to Dick, but his gaze was set on Roy as he said it. Dick wasn't the ones making the calls right now anyway. Roy stepped back, nodded once, and Wally disappeared from sight.

Roy wondered how long Dick was going to stay mad at him this time, but it registered that he didn't really care. Alive Dick was better than Dead Dick any day of the week.

* * *

The diagnosis was pretty rough - severe concussion, dislocated left shoulder, three broken ribs, bruised liver, torn abdominal muscles, broken left ankle and a wounded ego - but considering that he had been mere steps away from an explosion that took out a solid third of an old human trafficking compound, Roy thought Dick was pretty damn lucky and should be planning a trip to Vegas in the immediate future to see how far he could push it.

Wally, Donna and Garth had finally left the room; Donna to write up the report, Garth and Wally to the change rooms to clean up, leaving just Roy and Dick alone in the room together. Roy had been hanging out by the door, separate from the others since they had gotten there, letting the other three fawn over Dick, listening to his over insistent reassurances that he was fine, and is enthusiasm to talk about the mission and find out what he had missed.

The others left, and the mask dropped from Dick's face leaving just a tired and pain stricken young man in his place.

"Sorry." 

Roy wasn't sure if he was talking about the explosion or his stubbornness when Roy had made the call in the field to get him extracted, but it really didn't matter. He was just glad that Dick's anger had blown over. “You are a dumbass," he said. Dick nodded and then winced a little. Roy came closer to the bed. “What’s the number?”

“I’m fine. I just can’t get comfortable.”

“It’s just the two of us in here.” Roy shook his head, because why did it always have to be this way with Dick. “What. Is. The Number?” It was a common question with them after a fight. After an injury. After an fight with Bruce or Ollie. After something didn't go right.

Dick thought about it for a few seconds. “Six.”

“Is that a Bat Six or a Regular Person Six?”

Dick didn’t respond, just looked away and down at his feet, where his toes wiggled slightly.

“Eight it is then.” Roy sighed and rounded on the other side of the bed and started looking in the storage closet. “We had a deal, Dick. The regular squishy humans with no powers have to be honest with each other even if we lie to the others about how bad something gets.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you a morphine drip. I have no idea how you convinced Martian Manhunter that you didn't need one, but you can't fool me.” He opened the right cupboard this time and found the IV line, and a stock of morphine beside it, all read to be used.

“Wait. You don’t have to.” Dick's voice turned urgent and he was struggling to sit up in the bed. Roy came back to his side, pulling the IV with him, and pushed Dick back down slowly. “You shouldn’t have to do that, Roy.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been half exploded, but here we are.”

“Not what I meant.” Roy didn't understand and it must have shown, because Dick looked back towards his feet again, avoiding looking him the eyes. “You shouldn’t have to deal with the needles.”

“This isn’t the same as that.” Roy took Dick's good arm and skillfully injected the line. It was something that they had learned together, the five of them in the Tower, when they realized that they had to have each others backs on and off the field. Dick had been the one to teach them, having learned from Alfred. “And even if it was, this isn’t exactly my preferred poison. In this line of work, I can’t just pretend needles and medication don’t exist.” He motioned to the bag. “This is for you, not me.”

“Sorry, though. If it makes things harder.”

Oh. And this wasn't new either. He knew that the others didn't really like to talk about his addiction problems with him. It wasn't that they didn't care, but rather that they cared a lot but didn't know how to talk about it without it ending badly. It was easier when he was on the wagon and been sober for a while, but it still had the habit of blowing up in their faces more often than not, making everyone upset. They had to work on that. This weird little family had to figure out some stuff. Maybe after Dick was released from medical they could go back to the Tower and talk about it a little easier, when everyone was calmer and off the edge.

"It won't. If it helps you heal, it's worth it." He knew that Dick was exhausted, but he was struggling to stay awake, even if they drugs hadn't started to take effect yet. Roy ran his fingers through Dick's hair, and Dick's eyes finally drifted closed. “Sleep, Robin.” It was habit. No matter how long Dick was Nightwing, some part of him would always be Robin to Roy.

Dick hummed at the touch, and then he whispered, “Stay?” Blue eyes fluttered open for a moment before falling closed again, mumbled words falling from his lips, “I mean, you don’t have to, but…” his palm flipped up and his fingers twitched a fraction. “Stay?”

“Alright, man. I’ll stay.” Roy plunked himself down in the chair and kicked off his shoes before reaching for Dick's hand, squeezing it tight. “Whenever you need me to, I’ll stay.”


End file.
